Saturday, December 11, 2010

Diary Of A Secretary: This Time She's A Bit Mental

Week One

Here we go. Year three. I have got this secretary thing down to a goddamn tee. Especially after all those shenanigans in year one and then they didn't bother their arses giving my desk any screen time in year two, the jerks. But now look at me! A working laptop, on which I can pretend to be busy while chatting on Gmail, a stapler and my very own pink highlighter. That's right. Everything's coming up Jane.

Week Two

Right. So some joker thought it might be funny to move all my stuff to the other side of my deadly laptop that actually works. Well I'm The Secretary, bitches. Capitals and everything. It's going to take more than a lame trick like this to rattle me. At least nothing's gone missing.

Week Three

Alright Jane, be cool. It's just a highlighter. Just a pink highlighter. Just my fucking pink fucking highlighter that SOMEBODY STOLE. And my stapler.

Week Four

Oh I see you Ciara. Don't think I don't because I most certainly do. And I see what you're doing. Oh sure, yeah, my highlighter is back. AND YOU'RE JUST ACTING LIKE YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT IT? Well that shit is not gonna fly, lady. I will end you.

Week Five

Fine Ciara, take it, you're playing the long game here I see. Well two can play that particular game and I think you'll find that I'm not going anywhere. Unlike YOU. I know who can help me here. I know just the person in fact...Hello? I need to get a number for Frances in Alan Sugar's office. What? Who the hell is Samantha Moon?

Week Six

My highlighter is back and I'm totally winning this staring competition with Nagaite. A good day indeed.

Week Seven

See Ciara? I don't care that you've taken it again. Look, look at me not caring, I've even gone and let my lovely hair down and gotten myself a notepad for reasons I can't quite remember seeing as all I do is chat on Gmail and read blogs. Anyway. I'm bringing the sexy to this office, can't be having that Michelle being the ridey one around here. Check it.

Week Eight

Bringing the sexy may not have been the best course of action here. Barry C. Hunt is getting ideas and calling me 'babes' for some reason. I'd better tone down the hotness. Also, apparently that wasn't my notepad to take. Fine.

Week Nine

Glasses. Yes, glasses, now that should keep C. Hunt off my back. Also, FYI Ciara, I'm so bored with your game right now. Yay it's back, see if I give a fuck.

Week Ten

So fired. I did warn you. Keep walking, bitch.

Week Eleven

I may have been mistaken about Ciara. Either that or she's taken the highlighter with her. I bet her suitcase was filled with stuff from the stationery cupboard. Wagon.

Week Twelve

It's back again! Smallface Niamh. All this time it must have been Smallface Niamh. Look at her there, like butter wouldn't melt in her tiny Keyser Söze mouth. That blondie snake in the grass...oh crap, there's Gavin Duffy. Don't make eye contact, look busy, typey typey, or he'll bring up those photos I submitted for that Tan Organic audition. Scarlet, like.